For a Little While
by serenelystrange
Summary: So I wrote a story for Ctrokj, and it somehow split itself into two stories. This is the second one, in which Eliot has a secret. This is a little different, but give it a shot, :D R&R please! Hope you like this too , Katie!


Katie- Happy Birthday! And honestly… this is not where I started this story. In fact, this is nowhere near where I started the story. But this is what happened. I have no excuse. I'm a Gemini… blame it on that. Hopefully you like,

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Eliot slams through his front door, the stress of the day radiating off his skin in waves he's surprised aren't visible. This job was been tougher than most, made worse by Sophie's continued absence and Tara's annoyingly persistent existence. He's glad it's over. He supposes it could have gone worse; after all, he'd barely gotten hurt at all, but pain was never his problem. The worst part of the job was the tension among his teammates. If Sophie didn't come back soon, or at all, he's not sure how long they can all stay together. The thought only adds to the stress that's built up and he collapses to the couch without turning on the lights, letting his head fall back in relief.

His eyes snap open a moment later; he's not alone. He feels the presence in another moment, but doesn't change his position. Instead, he closes his eyes again and lets a lazy smile come to his face. He knows she'll see it, even in the dark. He breathes in her scent and waits.

She doesn't disappoint. He doesn't feel her move until she's in his lap, one knee on each side of the couch beneath him. His hands come up automatically to grasp her waist as she leans down to whisper hello in his ear. He doesn't miss the fact that she's naked, even though he hasn't opened his eyes. It's not as though he hasn't memorized her body already, over all these years, not as though she hasn't memorized his as well. It's not as though she's changed, she never does. She isn't warm, she never is, but Eliot supposes that's what comes of being undead, and he's used to it. By the end of the night, she'll be curled into his heat, and they'll both pretend to be normal for a little while longer.

Nothing about their relationship is normal, he knows this. For one, she's a vampire. It took years for Eliot to come to accept this fact, accept that there was an even bigger and more dangerous world out there than he had ever imagined. He wonders on some days what the team would say if they knew that world existed, how they would react. He suspects Parker knows already, may have even been involved in some way at some time, but he knows the others have no idea. The knowledge might break Nate, a thought which amuses Eliot far too much at times.

He's surprised sometimes that she hasn't killed him by now, or changed him, as she's begged him to let her many times. He knows she doesn't want to end his life, but sometimes she gets carried away and takes too much, leaving him nearly as pale as her. But she keeps coming back, and he keeps letting her in. Not that he could stop her.

He doesn't want to stop her. She's the only thing in his life that's been steady for the past ten years. He was young when they first met, barely twenty five. He wasn't half the man he is now, for better or worse, and she knows this. She knows everything, though he tells her little. He goes away, disappears, for months at a time, but she always finds him when he's settled again.

She chose him. All those years ago. He was broken and bleeding in an alley, of all the horrible movie clichés. He'd gotten the job done, already quite the professional in his field, but he hadn't honed all his instincts yet. Sometimes he was still too rash, too headstrong, and sometimes it got him hurt. This time, he was hurt bad enough to stumble into that alley, hoping to hide long enough to be safe until he regained consciousness. He stumbled to the ground, his last glimpse of light being obscured by a tumble of black hair and pale skin that swept down as he passed out.

She nips at his earlobe, pulling him back to the present. He finally opens his eyes, and she must have opened the blinds, because he can see her clearly in the beaming moonlight, and he is caught by her beauty, still. It's been months since she's shown up, but he knows time means little to her. It may well have been a day in her world.

"Rough job, baby?" she asks, a slight accent he's never been able to place lilting her words. She always calls him baby, a fact that should bother him, but it doesn't. Instead, he finds it oddly soothing, to know somebody has lived beyond his wildest dreams and nightmares; to know he's barely more than an infant to her.

He just nods, rubbing circles on her waist, sighing as she kneads his shoulders expertly. He already feels better. She somehow knows exactly when the tension is gone and stops her hands, bringing them to lace in his hair as she leans down for a kiss. He kisses her back hungrily, always surprised to realize how much he's missed her; missed this. He moves to cup her full breasts, but she bats his hands away, tugging at his shirt instead. He takes the hint and pulls it off, tossing it to the floor, hissing when she rakes her nails down his chest. It will leave marks, but the thought only makes him harder. She notices and laughs softly, her hands going to his jeans button.

He's naked before he's entirely sure what happened, but not surprised. And then she's above him again, hovering. Their eyes lock as she sinks down onto him, clear blue and violet, both shades of beautiful danger, in their own way. Eliot bucks up immediately, reveling in the fact that someone with a body so cool could be so hot on the inside. She just laughs again, rising and falling languidly, driving him crazy.

She's stronger than him, a fact she doesn't let him forget. But sometimes she lets him pretend. She lets him guide her movements. She knows he loves it though, loves that he can't hurt her, even if he tried. He can be as rough as he needs to be or as gentle as he wants to be, and she can take it all. Does take it all. Loves it too.

She's close, so close, and damn it if Eliot doesn't know it. Damn it if he doesn't still his hands, stopping her from going over the edge. But she just grins, their favorite part is coming up. She leans down again, his breath is harsh and panting in her ear. She almost misses breathing when she sees him like this, flushed and glistening and absolutely gorgeous. It's why she keeps coming back to him. With all the lives she's drained, he's the only one who has ever made her feel alive again.

He knows it's time, and he tilts his head back willingly, arms gripping her tightly as she presses into him. She sinks her teeth into where his shoulder meets his neck, where the team won't see, and drinks greedily, still clenching around him. As usual, it breaks his fragile hold, and he comes suddenly, his vision going white with pleasure. He's only vaguely aware of her tumbling after him as she pulls away and licks the wound, but he knows she'll be there when he wakes up.

They're in his bed when he wakes up, and Eliot is sure he should feel weak, knowing she must have carried him, but he doesn't. She is a preternatural being after all, how would he compete with that. For all his strength, he's merely human. Instead of dwelling on it, he just rolls over to pull her into his side, hissing at the chill as she mewls at the warmth. They complement each other well, if only for a little while.

"How are you?" she asks, and he's struck once again at how genuinely she asks. He doesn't understand why she cares, or why he always feels compelled to answer. But he does.

"I'm good," he tells her, but he knows she sees the lie. She doesn't say anything though, just turns to kiss him softly, no trace of fangs or tongue. He smiles against her lips.

It doesn't always end in sex with them. Sometimes she just shows up and crawls into bed with him, and he wakes up to find her curled next to him. He never complains or wakes her, just pulls the covers back over them and wraps her securely in his arms.

Sometimes they talk all night. He's told her things he couldn't tell anybody else. It's mostly things he's done, people he's killed, but she doesn't bat an eye. She just listens. She tells him stories from her life and he doesn't always know what to believe, but they're fascinating tales.

Sometimes they lie in bed and he shares his hopes with her, knowing she's the only one he can tell them to without guilt or fear of mocking. He tells her how he wants to give it all up and just live on the ranch some days, riding horses and doing honest work. She smiles and tells him he'd be a good cowboy. He tells her that he was, once upon a time, and she laughs.

Time. It's the greatest difference between them. She has forever, he doesn't, and they both know it. He made the mistake once of telling her that he thought about a family sometimes; a wife and a baby, all the normal things that people did. She'd stared at him with such a heartbroken expression that he'd dropped the subject immediately and never brought it back up. It occurred to him later that she doesn't have options like he does. If he wanted to become like her, all he had to do was ask. No matter how hard she tried, she could never be human again. He told her, with all seriousness, that she's a better person than most humans he's met, but he knows she didn't believe him.

They're both broken, but they make each other better. Long after she's asleep in his arms, Eliot lays awake, thinking. He can't help but think again of what his team would say if they knew about her, about what he does and lets her do to him. He wants to say he doesn't care; that it doesn't matter, but it does. When he's with them, he's a better man than he ever has been, and he knows they wouldn't understand this, could never understand how he shares his bed with a murderer. But, he reminds himself, so does she.

"Kara?" he whispers, though he knows it's not her original name. She doesn't respond, but she seems to sense his anxiety and grasps his hand tightly in hers. Eliot smiles against her hair, holding her tight until he finally falls asleep.

As for his team, well, the team doesn't need to know.


End file.
